Wrong Door
by LadyJacky
Summary: (!Modern Time AU!) "You're cute, ya know that? You're so small and everything, but it seems like ya have a massive heart in that tiny chest of yours." Steve laughed and tried to shrug the compliment off, because he knew that Bucky was drunk, but it was nice anyways. "Why, thank you." Bucky hummed and nuzzled the side of Steve's neck, his breath hot against his skin.
1. Chapter 1

"Fucking elevator."

Steve turned around and eyed the staircase. He would have to walk up all eleven floors to get to his flat.

_Overkill._

His lungs didn't like him and he didn't like his lungs, because they made him stop every so often, threatening to just give up on him. He pulled his rucksack off his shoulders and rummaged around with clumsy fingers until he finally found his asthma spray.

Sometimes he genuinely wondered why he hadn't died as a child. That would've been easier than the life he had to lead now...

"Whatever," he shoved the spray into the back pocket of his jeans and continued his way up the stairs.

The amount of relief he felt when he finally reached his door was insane and he jammed his keys into the lock, slamming the door behind him once he stepped inside. It took him another moment or two to catch his breath again so he was able to take off his shoes and jacket.

If it hadn't been so late already, he wouldn't have hesitated to wake the housekeeper, but he didn't feel like waking the old man at this unholy hour. Even though...

-but no, he couldn't blame poor for the terrible state his health was in.

He flung his rucksack aside and slouched to the kitchen, raiding the fridge for something edible before he made himself comfortable on his shabby couch.

Not that he minded it being shabby, not at all. He loved his flat. It was spacious and cheap, so he wouldn't complain. Sure, it could use fresh paint on the walls and the floor was creaking in several spaces, but he loved the huge windows and the gorgeous view he had from up here. And the best thing- nobody was living above him (because there simply was no other floor) and he had the whole 11th floor for himself too. Nobody ever wanted to move into the flat opposite from his and he liked it like that.

He wasn't anti-social or anything, he just liked to be alone from time to time and he saw enough people at work every day. Besides, people usually ignored him, seeing that he wasn't particularly handsome and most women were taller as well... and with his poor health and all.

Steve sighed heavily and grabbed the remote control next to him, zapping through the channels until he found something that might interest him.

Something scratched on his door and he shot up, looking around sleepily. The only light was coming from the TV and he scrambled to his feet to switch the light on when he heard the noise again.

Did someone try to break into his flat?!

It sounded like something metallic was scraping on the lock and Steve dashed to the kitchen to grab a knife. Just to be sure.

A couple of moments passed in silence and then he heard a loud curse and someone kicking against the door, causing the wood to groan in protest. Steve frowned.

Burglars wouldn't try to kick in a door, would they? At least they would try to be not too loud... right?

"Hello," he called out and listened. It was silent again, then-

"Ey, you punk! What are you doing inside my flat!?"

He didn't know the voice. However, this was his flat.

Curious as he was, he put the knife aside and walked over to pull the door open, almost being knocked over by the man looming outside.

"Excuse me, sir, but this is my flat. Not yours."

The man swayed slightly and he seemed to have trouble to focus on Steve. Drunk. Obviously.

"Ya gotta be kidding me."

Steve shook his head and hoped that the other man wouldn't loose his balance, because there was no way that Steve could help him to his feet again. He looked the stranger up and down and, to his astonishment, saw that he had a metal hand.

"Lemme in."

Said metal hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him aside, almost knocking him into the wall.

"Hey! Mister! You have to get out!"

The stranger grunted something and walked down the hall and straight through the living room to Steve's bedroom.

Steve hurried after him and decided on calling the police, because he wouldn't have a stranger in his flat. No. Way.

The man kicked his shoes off and settled down on the bed, curling up in the middle of it. His dark hair in stark contrast with the white sheets and the metal hand glowing faintly in the light that shone through the window.

"Uh... Can you please get out of my bed?"

Grey-blue eyes found his and looked at him for a moment before they closed again.

"Boy. Listen. 'M tired..."

Boy?! He was 25, not a _boy_. Steve snorted and shook his head.

"Yeah. Whatever. This is _my home_ and _my bed_, so please get up and leave."

He got no answer, but a deep, rumbling snore filled the air a second later.

_Great_.

He rubbed his face with both hands, then eyed the stranger on his bed wearily.

Maybe he shouldn't call the police. That dude really seemed too drunk to go anywhere and as long as he was knocked out there was nothing to fear.

Something hard prodded his side and he growled, turning around in order to get away, but knocked into something solid instead.

A body.

"Woah!"

Steve scrambled out of the bed and found himself sitting on the floor, staring at the stranger in his bed.

"What-?"

It took him a moment, but then it all came back to him. Last night that stranger had just come into his flat and crashed on his bed... but how the hell did Steve end up next to him!?

The stranger laughed, a sound that made Steve's spine tingle in a pleasant way.

"Calm down boy. Nothing happened. You just suddenly, in the middle of the night, snuggled into bed next to me. I was too drunk to do anything, really."

Steve felt himself blush and opened his mouth to reply something, but no sound came out. The stranger laughed again.

"How about I make us breakfast?"

His mouth was watering and he quickly grabbed his plate of bacon and eggs, but still eyed the stranger wearily.

"Who are you?"

"James, but friends call me Bucky... So you can call me whatever you want-?"

"Steve," he managed to mumble around a mouthful of bacon.

Bucky smiled, "Yeah, you look like a Steve."

Steve frowned, but didn't inquire any further.

"Ya know, I actually live downstairs. No idea why I came up here last night... Too much Tequila, I guess."

Well, that was news.

"How come I've never seen you before?"

Bucky sat down as well and took a few bites before he answered.

"Just moved in a week ago. Didn't have any time to introduce myself."

"Maybe you should've done so. Wouldn't have freaked me out as much as it did this way."

The other man grinned sheepishly, "I didn't do anything inappropriate, did I?"

Steve quickly shook his head and looked down at his plate again when he felt the heat creep into his cheeks.

That deep, rich laughter filled the air again and it caused Steve to blush even more.

"Should I have done something inappropriate?"

He had no idea what to say so he kept his mouth shut, concentrating on eating instead. Thankfully, Bucky decided to let it be for the time being and started chatting about the troubles he'd had when moving in.

"That old Jerkins... Name's fitting, really, he's a jerk."

Steve chuckled, "Why? What did he do?"

"Told me I couldn't bring my piano and my guitar. That he doesn't like _'those people who make music'_... Saying we're all drug addicts and scum."

"He was always nice to me..."

Bucky shrugged, "He doesn't have to be nice to me. As long as he doesn't cause me any troubles, I am fine with him being an asshole."

"Sounds legit."

Steve was just about to finish the last of his breakfast when Bucky got to his feet.

"You leaving?"

He nodded and Steve felt himself pout, even though he didn't mean to.

"Aw, don't look like that. You know where to find me."

He winked at Steve and then sauntered out of the kitchen without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha was staring at him with wide eyes, her hair swept back into a loose ponytail.

"He didn't!?"

Steve nodded, "He did. He actually pushed me aside, walked to my bedroom and fell asleep on _my bed_."

She laughed and took a sip of her drink.

"Well. And then?"

"What then?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned over, looking up at him through her lashes, a broad smile lingering on her lips.

"Oh Stevie, baby, you don't want to tell me that nothing happened."

His jaw dropped when he grasped the full meaning of her words.

"Natasha!"

Her smile grew bigger and she sat up again, "Yes. That is my name."

"Nothing happened! He just fell asleep!"

"So?"

She raised an eyebrow and made him feel like an idiot.

Steve decided it was best not to answer her anymore. Once Natasha had made up her mind, there was no way to talk her out of it _ever again_. She was that stubborn.

He loved her anyways.

"Are you going to see him again?"

Steve shrugged.

He really wasn't sure if he would meet up with his so-to-say-neighbour from downstairs. Their first meeting had been more than awkward, really, and Steve had no idea what to make of the feelings he had when just thinking back to it. The way Bucky had looked at him, his rumbling laughter... the smell of him that still clung to Steve's sheets.

A groan found it's way out of his mouth and Natasha pursed her lips, watching him closely.

"You're crushing."

"I am not!" His cheeks felt as if they were on fire and he quickly hid his face behind his hands.

She just laughed at that and reached over the table to pull his hands away.

"It's cool. You say he's kinda hot, so what's the matter?"

"Look at me, Nat."

Bucky looked kinda hot, that was true, but Steve just looked...

"Steven."

That made him look up and she gave him a warm smile, "Don't sell yourself short! I mean, you have so many good qualities. I doubt I've ever met a dude who was so selfless and caring. Also, you really have the most amazing blue eyes and let's not forget how talented you are! You're worth it."

"You're making me blush..."

She shook her head, "No I don't, because you won't fucking believe me."

He really couldn't understand why it made her so angry. Steve was over the time when he was unhappy with not being good enough, but he had gotten over it. He was okay. He could live with not even being average and with women (and men) ignoring him, acting as if he wasn't there at all.

"Why won't you ask him out? I mean, the worst that can happen is that he says 'no'."

"I dunno..."

"Is it because of his prothesis?"

"What? - No!"

Nat gave him a look that asked 'You sure?' and he nodded.

"It's not because of that. I don't even know why he has it... I don't think he's been a soldier or anything..."

Come to think of it, he really wondered what had made him loose a hand.

"Is that him?"

Steve whipped around in his seat when she pointed to the entrance of the bar and his heart jumped up into his throat. He nodded.

"Good looking fellow. Although that's not just a metal hand...-"

"It's his whole arm. I can see, yes."

While he had been at Steve's flat, Bucky had been wearing a long sleeved shirt and Steve had assumed that his arm was still intact...

"But God, he's really handsome. Steve! You have to grab this chance around the neck."

Steve chuckled at Natasha's awestruck expression and nodded his head once.

Bucky really was a nice sight to look at. With his shoulder lenght, dark hair and those eyes...

Those eyes were looking at him right then and Steve forgot how to breath for a moment.

"Hey Steve!"

Bucky waved at him and strolled over, another man following him.

"Wouldn't have thought to see you here of all places. Who's this lovely lady?"

He glanced over at Natasha who smiled at him and batted her lashes, "I am Natasha."

Bucky reached out and took her hand, placing a kiss on top of hers, "What a pleasure to meet you Natasha, I am Bucky."

She glanced over at Steve, grinning now.

"I know who you are."

Bucky looked at Steve as well, who wished for a hole in the floor to swallow him from the surface of the earth, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from Bucky's eyes. At least not until the man behind Bucky cleared his throat.

"Oh, right," Bucky laughed and gestured at his friend, "This is Sam Wilson, a close friend."

They shook heads and the two of them pulled chairs over to sit with Steve and Natasha.

It hadn't been long before Natasha had dragged Sam off, muttering something that sounded like 'I want to know you better', leaving Steve alone with Bucky.

Some shots of Tequila later, Bucky was considerably drunk and had his arm (the flesh one) slung around Steve's shoulder.

"You're cute, ya know that? You're so small and everything, but it seems like ya have a massive heart in that tiny chest of yours."

Steve laughed and tried to shrug the compliment off, because he knew that Bucky was drunk, but it was nice anyways.

"Why, thank you."

Bucky hummed and nuzzled the side of Steve's neck, his breath hot against his skin.

"And ya smell fantastic. Mhhh, where have ya been all my life?"

"Okay, Bucky, you're terribly drunk... I think I should get you home, huh?"

" 'M not drunk, punk."

He laughed and Steve's breathing hitched when Bucky's lips brushed over his skin in the process.

"That rhymed! Did ya here it Steve?"

Steve had to laugh at that too and tried to get free of Bucky's embrace.

"Come now. Let's get you home."

He somehow managed to pull Bucky out of his chair and they stumbled out of the bar together and out into the cool night.

Steve shivered involuntarily and wished he had brought a jacket along, but just as this thought crossed his mind, warm, soft leather engulfed his shoulders.

"Can't let ya catch a cold, can I?"

Bucky glanced down at him, a bit cross-eyed, but beautiful nonetheless.

"Thanks."

Steve pulled the jacket a bit tighter around himself and couldn't keep himself for inhaling deeply, taking in Bucky's scent.

They walked a few steps and then, totally out of the blue, Bucky's arm snuck around his middle, pulling Steve into his side.

"Do ya mind?"

Steve let go of the breath he'd held and shook his head, "No."

"Good... Just tell me when it get's too cold... Damn metal won't hold heat for too long."

"Okay."

Several cabs rushed past, but they preferred to walk home, maybe just so they could stay close without feeling watched. Bucky stumbled from time to time, but never lost his balance, although it made him laugh every single time.

Steve enjoyed his presence, but still wasn't sure what he was to make of it.

"Wanna know how I got it?"

He looked up at Bucky who was glancing down the street.

"What?"

"The arm," he gently squeezed Steve's waist to emphasize his words.

"If you want to tell me...?"

Bucky nodded, "Yeah. Y'know, some secret agency kidnapped me when I was fifteen and they cut my arm off to replace it with this thing... I've worked as an assassin this past twelve years."

Steve frowned, not sure if he was supposed to laugh or not, but by the time he had his mind made up, Bucky laughed out loud and had to stop and double over.

"You're an idiot." Steve wanted to stay serious, but he couldn't keep himself from grinning.

Bucky wiped his eyes and straightened up again, "Sorry. I love to tell people this story."

Steve shook his head and Bucky wrapped his arm around him again and they continued their way.

"No... I actually lost my arm in a car accident and went without it for a couple of years until I met a guy named Tony Stark... This prothesis is the first of it's kind and I am sorta like the one to test it for Stark."

"And it worked out well so far?"

Bucky just nodded and they walked up to the building they both were living in.

"Ah man, Jerkins still didn't repair the elevator!"

Steve felt his heart sink. He didn't like the idea of Bucky seeing how poor his health really was. Maybe he should just wait till Bucky was gone...? But it would look stupid if he stayed here when he had to go upstairs.

"C'mere princess."

Before Steve could react in any way, Bucky swooped him up into his arms, literally like a prince would do with a princess and started to walk upstairs.

"Let me down! I can walk."

"Ya just looked so crestfallen when ya saw that the elevator is still out of order. Thought I could carry ya upstairs. You're as light as a feather."

"It makes me feel like a girl."

Bucky looked down at him, face all serious.

"You're not a girl Steve."

That brought a tiny smile to his lips and he let Bucky continue to carry him upstairs.

It wasn't that bad a feeling, really. Actually it was rather nice to rest in Bucky's arms, snuggled close to his chest... Steve could get used to that. Maybe.

Up on the last floor, Bucky sat him down in front of his door, but didn't leave then.

Steve was fishing for his keys and unlocked the door once he found them, but Bucky grabbed his wrist before he could walk inside.

"Wait."

Steve turned to look at him, "Yeah?"

"This might sound creepy, but I'd really like to – uh – I dunno – to go and grab a drink with you again. Or maybe go out for dinner or something like that... Just – I really enjoy your company."

Steve felt his face light up with a smile and nodded hastily.

"Sure. We can do that."

Bucky returned the smile, his eyes alight with joy.

"Cool. Well, then... Good night Steve."

"Good night."

He waited till Bucky had disappeared down the stairs and then walked inside his flat, slowly closing the door behind himself. Just then he realized that Bucky's jacket was still slung around his shoulders and he smiled, deciding to use it as an apology to go and see Bucky on the next day.

Maybe Natasha had been right.


End file.
